


A Stitch Out Of Time

by Dr_Hoffmans_Mechanic



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Kyssandra mentioned, Mild Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:21:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24959062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Hoffmans_Mechanic/pseuds/Dr_Hoffmans_Mechanic
Summary: Kassandra rests up in a tavern after an eventful day and meets a mysterious stranger.
Relationships: Kassandra/Kyra (Assassin's Creed), Kassandra/OC
Comments: 15
Kudos: 59





	A Stitch Out Of Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spitshineboi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spitshineboi/gifts).



> Happy birthday spitshineboi !

Kassandra had been riding for a good twenty minutes before she realised that she’d been injured. Chrysis’ guards had put up a better fight than she’d anticipated. Being on edge about the fate of the baby hadn’t helped either, she thought irritably, feeling her thigh sticking to the smooth leather of Phobos’ saddle.

She drew him to a halt in a small clearing by the side of the road and peered down at her leg. A ribbon of blood had wound its way past her knee, but the bulk of it was apparently under her leg, judging by the warm, tacky sensation as she shifted position.

Angry at herself, she dismounted, wincing as she felt the stinging pain in her thigh. The rush of panicky adrenaline that had accompanied the smell of burning wood and the cries of a terrified infant had obviously masked any pain at the time.

Looping Phobos’ reins around a low branch, close to a tasty looking clump of grass Kassandra went to sit on a convenient rock to assess the damage. Pulling aside the tassets of her belt, and lifting the skirt of her tunic she found a broad wash of blood sliding sluggishly from a gash to her inner thigh. She wiped away the worst with a stroke of her hand, to better see the nature of the wound.

A lucky blow. Lucky for her.

Another couple of inches further up, a half an inch deeper, and she might only have become aware of it as she toppled off Phobos, ashen faced and with a boot full of blood. She could have ended her days lying on her back here gazing with dulling eyes at the darkening sky. It had been a foolish error. A better opponent could have finished her. And she hadn’t even caught her quarry.

She probed at the edges of the wound, as much to punish herself as to examine it. A sluggish trickle of blood was oozing out, slow but steady. This would need to be cleaned and stitched. She gave a weary sigh, and rolled her shoulders. It was too dark to do anything about it here. In a few minutes she wouldn’t be able to see to thread a needle.

Getting to her feet Kassandra made her way over to Phobos. She could feel the uncomfortable tickle of blood down her thigh, and he could apparently smell it, raising his head from grazing to snort and give her a disapproving look.

“Keep it to yourself,” she muttered rummaging in her pack for cloth. “I saved a baby at least.”

Phobos conceded the point and resumed his meal. Kassandra untied the water skin from his saddle and went back to the rock to clean up as best she could. The skin was only half full but they had passed a likely looking stream on their way here, as well as a small town where she would hopefully be able to find a healer. She had enough coin to not have to treat this herself. It had been a pig’s arse of a day and what she wanted now was a hot meal before falling into a jug of wine, a soft bed and a warm woman.

Washing off as much blood as she could make out in the dim light, she folded the length of cloth she’d found into a narrow bandage. It was clean enough to help rather than hinder. She cinched it tight, knotting it on the outside of her thigh and stood up, testing her weight on the injured leg. It felt more comfortable already, and now she wouldn’t be wandering into a strange place advertising her injury to every asshole bandit and mercenary who might be on the lookout for an easy mark.

She’d had enough for one day. Enough of everything. Enough trekking, saddle sore, from one end to the other of every fucking island in the Aegean looking for bastard cultists. Enough sneaking through bloody forts and camps, bribing and battling and bartering for clues. And enough sleeping rough with just her right hand for companionship. To Tartarus with all of it.

The saddle was unpleasantly sticky now, so she took a deep swallow from the water skin before using the last of the contents to clean it off as best she could. Hauling herself back atop Phobos she was painfully aware now of the injury. The post combat buzz was fading rapidly. She was irritated, weary, hungry, and pretty sure that she didn’t have a spare tunic in her pack.

By the time they reached the town she’d seen earlier, it was dark. Kassandra located the tavern without much difficulty. The town wasn’t large and the inn was the only place lit up. Thankfully there were stables adjoining it. Locating the stable hand she arranged for food, water and a stall for Phobos. Her stomach was gnawing at itself as she got him settled for the night.

“Watch my pack!” Kassandra pointed to the lumpy bundle that she’d hidden under the straw in a corner of his stall. There was nothing in it worth stealing, but it was the principle of the thing.

There was a hum of conversation in the tavern, punctuated by the occasional verse of song or burst of laughter. Kassandra automatically assessed the room for potential threats. She found none. Groups of farmers. A couple of dusty travellers. A few women who were clearly there looking for business. She’d pay more attention to _them_ once she’d eaten.

“Stew!” Grunted the tavern keeper in answer to her query.

“What kind of stew?”

He gave it a moment’s consideration. “Meat!”

Kassandra was too weary to argue the point. "Give me a bowl, and some bread if you have it. And whatever’s the best thing in those amphorae.”

“The best thing is under the counter here,” he winked slyly.

“If that’s some filthy innuendo, I am really not in the mood. I’ve had a bastard of a day and I just want to eat and go to bed.”

“Well you can do one of those things.” He had produced a stoppered jug from under the counter. “I’ve no rooms free.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Kassandra sighed. The day was being consistent at least. “Look. I don’t need anything fancy. Just a mattress in a corner. I’ll share if it comes down to it. The room, not the mattress,” she added quickly.

“No can do,” he shook his head. “Full to bursting.” He prised the stopper from the jug and the sharp, sweet smell of hydromeli hit her nostrils. That was a step in the right direction at least. “You’ve stabled your horse, right?” He poured her a cup. After the first sniff there was something eye watering about it. “You can bunk down with him.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she scowled, taking a rash gulp of the wine and grimacing. She’d drunk worse things, but not when there’d been a choice. Someone had tried to disguise the sharp bite with the addition of spices. Which spices, she couldn’t decide. “You aren’t trying to poison me are you?” She glowered menacingly.

“Well excuse me! I didn’t realise we were hosting royalty tonight!” He poured a cup for himself and downed it in one, smacking his lips appreciatively. “If it's not good enough for you, your majesty, you can have water. Would you like to go and check the pump, perhaps?”

“No, no.” She was beating her head against a stone wall here, she realised. And she was irritated enough for it to escalate, if she wasn’t careful. “Give me the jug… and some water.”

He stood looking at her for a few moments, lips pursed primly, eyebrows raised.

“Please?” Kassandra conceded. “Thank you.” She accepted the jug and refilled her cup. “Here.” She produced a handful of low value coins from her pouch and placed them on the counter. There was more than enough for the cheap wine and the, no doubt, equally cheap stew, but she’d been rude, he was just about his business after all.

“Right. Thank you. That should cover it.” He was clearly reluctant to soften. “I’ll get your stew. It's not in a golden bowl like you’re used to of course but -”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She declined to rise to the bait and watched him amble off, making an obvious performance of his unwillingness to hurry. By the time he returned, bearing a bowl of steaming meat and vegetables, Kassandra was on the outside of a couple of cups of the hydromeli and it was no longer tasting as bad, though her teeth felt a little strange.

“There you go!” He placed the dish in front of her with more care than she’d expected. To her surprise it smelt delicious. “Oh, your bread!” He fished in the big pocket of his grimy apron and produced a large flat bread. “The wife says to tell you it’s ibex. That all right?”

Kassandra already had a mouthful. She chewed appreciatively. Admittedly she hadn’t eaten anything but a small lump of sweaty cheese and some nuts since the previous night, but this was gorgeous.

“This is really good.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Thank your wife, please?” She gave the bread a quick once over and decided that beggars couldn’t really be choosers.

The tavern keeper seemed mollified by her appreciation. He stood watching her eat for a minute or two, then wiped his hands on his apron. “Look. I’m sorry about the rooms, all right? We’re not a big place. The stable? It’s warm and clean...And there’s apples!”

“It’ll be fine.” With half a bowl of excellent stew and three cups of terrible hydromeli warming her belly Kassandra was feeling more amenable. “I’ve slept in worse places.”

“Right. Well. I’ll leave you to your supper. If there’s anything else you need, give me a shout.”

Kassandra was half way through the dusty but tasty flatbread and had almost finished her stew when she became aware of someone inching closer beside her. She lowered her spoon and raised her head, and was pleased to find that her new companion was a woman. And an attractive one at that.

“I hope you’ll forgive me for intruding on your meal in this way,” her voice was low and more honeyed than the hydromeli. Her dress was tasteful but her hair and makeup declared her to be a hetaera. She was definitely a few rungs above the other women plying their trade here tonight. In fact she was a few rungs above the tavern itself. What was she doing here?

“Not at all.” Kassandra was about to wipe her mouth with her hand but opted, just in time, to fish for the cloth tucked inside her belt. “I would offer you a drink,” she smiled. “But -”

“I quite understand.” The woman’s smile was delicious. Fed and watered, after a fashion, Kassandra found other appetites making their presence felt. “If you’ll permit me the impertinence of offering advice to a total stranger, I would drink a cup of water for every cup of that hydromeli. Its sting can be quite unforgiving the morning after, as I found to my cost.”

“Thank you,” Kassandra took her advice and filled her now empty cup with water. “Will you join me? Please?” She gave her what she hoped was a charming smile and reached over the counter for a clean cup.

After taking a sip, the woman inched closer still. Kassandra felt the hair on the back of her neck tingle at the touch of the bare arm against her bicep.

“I wouldn’t have imposed upon you like this under any other circumstances, I assure you,” she leaned in close and whispered in Kassandra’s ear. “But I was compelled to come over and inform you.”

“Inform me?” Kassandra leaned down, feeling the woman’s warm breath against her cheek, she’d been drinking something a good deal better than the swill they served at the counter.

“You’re bleeding.”

“I’m?” Kassandra frowned. The woman dropped her eyes subtly to Kassandra’s legs.

Looking down she saw a thin ribbon of blood inching slowly down towards her knee. “Fuc- damn it,” she corrected herself quickly. She’d forgotten all about the wound. She should have been asking after a healer rather than stew. Priorities!

“If you would permit me? I have everything you might need in my room.”

If she had been on the outside of two more cups of that grim hydromeli, Kassandra’s response would probably have been, “I bet you do, lovely one, let’s go and find out.” Thankfully the food had soaked up most of that danger.

“Ah, no,” she smiled, seeing the woman’s sympathetic expression. “It’s not what you think. Thank you for your sensitivity though. I was…” She wondered how best to explain. “I was accosted by some thugs on the way here. One managed to get in a lucky strike.”

“Gods! How terrible. I had quite forgotten how treacherous the roads can be in this -” The woman stopped awkwardly. “In this… area,” she settled.

“Well, these are treacherous _times_ alas,” Kassandra nodded and cast her eye about for the tavern keeper. “I need to find a healer really. I was so hungry, I forgot all about it.”

“I’m afraid to say you won’t find one here in the town. I inquired myself on arriving. I was looking for a particular herb, and healers are generally a fount of knowledge about such things where I come from.”

“And where is that?” Kassandra put aside her annoyance at the information. “I had noticed your pretty accent, but I can’t place it at all.”

The woman’s laughter was as intoxicating as the rest of her and Kassandra felt a warm knot of arousal begin to form low in her belly, as her senses heightened and the scent of marjoram and rose filled her nostrils.

“I suspect that the name would be unfamiliar to you, even without my accent.” She gave Kassandra an arch smile before speaking again, a string of musical syllables that Kassandra understood less than a third of.

“What’s _Samsi_?” she latched onto the simplest of the unfamiliar words.

“My name.” Another delightful laugh. “Perhaps it’s fallen out of fashion, by now?”

It was a curious way to phrase it, Kassandra thought, but she was too drawn by Samsi’s almost violet eyes to question it.

“It’s as pretty as your accent,” she began, painfully aware of what a weak opening line it was.

Samsi smiled however and inclined her head to acknowledge the compliment. It was her trade to be charmingly receptive after all, Kassandra reminded herself, mentally tallying the coin in her purse. She hadn’t come anticipating a night of expensive company. Samsi was scarcely in a high rent area here, but Kassandra had never in her life haggled with a woman over her services and she wasn’t about to start now. It would severely deplete her reserves, but after the day she’d had, she deserved it. It would be poor form to clamber into Aphrodite’s bower bleeding like a stuck pig though, she needed to sort that out.

“I’m Kassandra,” she dipped a little bow. “You’ve clearly spent more time here than me. Is there somewhere a little more…” she tailed off.

“Salubrious?” Samsi suggested, smiling. “I’m afraid not. Though I do have a pleasant enough room. I found it was most advantageous to cultivate the good will of the tavern keeper’s wife, rather than the man himself.”

“Most astute. And she certainly does make a delicious stew.”

“I found that she has a number of skills, not all of them culinary.” Samsi gave her an arch look, and Kassandra found she was on the verge of blushing for the first time in years.

“You? And the…?” She wafted a hand in the direction of what she assumed was the kitchen.

“I merely accepted what was offered. And now I am offering _you_ my services, though possibly not the services you imagine?” Samsi looked at Kassandra’s puzzled expression with amusement. “There is no healer, but fortunately I have spent many years amongst healers and herbalists. I have a kit with me, and would be happy to attend to that wound for you, if you would trust a total stranger with its care?”

“If there had been a healer, she’d also have been a total stranger,” Kassandra observed reasonably. “Are you sure? I’m certain you didn’t come here tonight expecting to deal with blood and stitches.”

“I came downstairs, hoping against hope that there might be someone just a little bit interesting here tonight.” Samsi reached out and placed her hand over Kassandra’s. It felt ridiculously soft and Kassandra found herself imagining what it would feel like against her back, her breasts, her belly, teasing through the curls of her sex to delve into -

“Kassandra?” Samsi’s voice derailed her train of thought. “Are you all right? How much blood have you lost? Do you have any idea? The hydromeli perhaps wasn’t the best idea under the circumstances.”

“I don’t think it's a great idea under _any_ circumstances,” Kassandra laughed sheepishly. “But you’re right, it was foolish.” She refilled her cup with water, drained it swiftly and then repeated the process again, more slowly.

“A woman of action!” Samsi observed with a grin. “Shall we?” She extended an elegant arm in the direction of the stairs. “Are you able to walk unaided?”

“Are you proposing to carry me?” Kassandra chuckled. She took a moment to steady herself nonetheless, it would be massively humiliating to keel over with those words barely past her lips.

“You’d be surprised.” Samsi glanced over her shoulder as she led the way upstairs. “You can’t always judge the wine from the amphora.”

She wasn’t wrong there, thought Kassandra as she followed a few steps behind. Her first assessment of Samsi’s robe as modest had been partially correct. Now she was in motion however the cut and drape of the garment served to reveal as much as it concealed when she was stationary. Kassandra found her eyes locked to the sway of Samsi’s hips, the enticing curves of her buttocks. By the time they reached the head of the stairs her pulse and breath were both quickening.

Samsi was clearly aware of it too. “Kassandra?” She stopped and looked back. “Are you sure that you’re well, you sound a little breathless?”

“I think we are both aware that it is not the exertion of climbing the stairs that is stealing my breath from me,” Kassandra’s voice was thick with desire.

“I thought not,” Samsi smiled foxily. “A fine figure of a woman like you. Come, this way.” She led her to her room.

It was small but clean and neatly furnished. The bedding looked new and a bowl of fresh lavender stood in the window. A token from the talented wife, Kassandra speculated as she looked about for somewhere to sit. Samsi indicated the bed, but Kassandra demurred.

“I don’t want to get blood on your sheets. It looks like it’s just been made.”

“My hostess is very solicitous.” Samsi had her back to Kassandra and was searching through a drawstring bag on a table near the window.

“Is she not going to be a little put out by my presence?” Kassandra’s leg was aching slightly now, no doubt in a belated protest about the stairs.

“She is scarcely in a position to be jealous.” Samsi turned with a small cloth roll in her hand and began to use the lamp on the table to light a number of candles. She noticed Kassandra’s dubious expression and smiled. “Don’t worry. She has been most accommodating so far. Now, place these on the bed if you would?” She handed Kassandra a couple of folded towels to sit on. “And if you’d be so good as to remove your belt, then I can see what we’re dealing with.”

It was going to need cleaning Kassandra observed as she hung it over the back of a chair, as would her boot, and Phobos’ saddle. That was her first evening back aboard the Adrestia spoken for. Feeling Samsi’s eyes upon her she turned and found she was frowning at her legs.

“Your boots should come off.” Samsi began to fill the wash bowl. “I imagine that’s seeped all the way down to your foot by now. And the tunic. I can send that to be washed if you wish. It will be ready by morning.”

“You’re very good at this,” Kassandra began to undress. “Barely through the door and you have me down to my underwear.”

“Centuries of training,” Samsi said distractedly, concentrating on unpacking the roll of shears and needles.

“Centuries?” Kassandra laughed. “Well permit me to say how remarkably well you look for your age, I would never have guessed.”

Samsi turned, looking a little flustered. “I meant that, as a hetaera I have centuries of training behind me, the skills of my sisters passed down through the generations.” For the first time since they had met, she seemed wrong footed Kassandra thought, puzzled.

“I am certain that you are a credit to your profession.” She folded her tunic and placed it on the chair on top of her armour, before sitting down on the bed, wearing only her loin cloth and the blood soaked bandage. “When you suggested that my clothes would be ready by _morning_?” she ventured, bracing her arms on the bed, flexing subtly, hoping to impress.

It seemed to be working. Samsi ran her eyes across Kassandra’s shoulders, down the taut muscles of her arms, over her chest, lingering openly at her breasts. She licked her lips quickly, and smiled. “I’m sure you love your horse dearly. But surely you _aren’t_ going to sleep in the stable?”

“Well I’ve slept in worse places,” Kassandra replied. “Though I’ve not slept in a more pleasant one than here by your side.”

“Nicely done, warrior.” Samsi inclined her head, smirking slightly. “We should get you cleaned up first though. Will it disturb you if I remove my dress? I don’t wish to get blood on it.”

“It will disturb me enormously,” Kassandra grinned wolfishly. “But in the very best of ways.”

She leaned back and watched as Samsi unclipped something behind her neck and the gown slid to the floor with a breathy whisper. As Kassandra had suspected, she was naked beneath it. Expectation was one thing. The actuality of it, another. Her throat tightened and her mouth became dry. How long had it been now since she’d been with a woman? How long had it been since Kyra told her to leave and never return?

She looked down at her leg, at the sodden bandage, white and slick crimson against the bronzed skin of her thigh. She now realised that she’d used the strophion she’d decided against wearing the previous day. There was no way the laundry here was going to deal with that. She’d have to buy a new one at some point. The smell of blood crept up on her suddenly, shouldering aside the scent of lavender and rose.

What the fuck was she doing, she frowned, biting the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste coppery blood. She stank of combat. Blood and sweat, the woodsmoke of the burning temple, the sour, milky vomit of the traumatised baby. She had no business in this woman’s bed. She would get the wound stitched and go down to the stable. There was a pump there, she could wash off the filth of violence and bed down with Phobos. Samsi did not deserve this.

“Kassandra? Kassandra!” She felt a soft hand against her cheek and raised her head to find Samsi crouched in front of her, concern etched on her features. “What happened to you today?” she asked softly. “Would you rather sit and talk? I’ve had extensive experience of that too?” Her smile was gentle.

“I’m sorry Samsi.” Kassandra took a deep breath and tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling. “I have no business being here with you like this. I reek of - “

Samsi stopped her with two fingers to her lips before guiding her head back down till their eyes met. She leaned forward and Kassandra trembled at the warm weight of Samsi’s breasts against her knees.

“Kassandra.” She began to trace, with the lightest strokes of her fingertips, the network of fine scars that dotted her features. “You smell like a warrior,” she breathed. “Blood and sweat. Leather and metal. I have lain with many great fighters, and you are worthy of your place among them, my beautiful Argolian warrior.”

“Spartan.” Kassandra’s voice was too low to be heard and Samsi tilted her head, asking her to repeat herself. “I’m a Spartan,” Kassandra tried again, husky but audible this time. “Or I used to be. I don’t think I am anymore. I don’t think I want to be.” She lowered her eyes.

Samsi was silent for a few moments then she shifted position enough that she could reach Kassandra’s face. She looked thoughtfully at the scars there and then began to mark them again, with her lips this time.

“Kassandra. Sometimes people reject us because _they_ are not worthy.” She rested their foreheads together. “Let me treat this wound, and then you may repay my kindness by showing me just what you are made of, my hero of the Aegean.”

She gently refused Kassandra’s offer to clean up her own leg, kneeling on a folded towel with Kassandra’s foot in her lap, working firmly at the crusts of dried blood. When it was cleaned to her satisfaction Samsi gave her a wad of cloth to hold to her thigh whilst she removed the washbowl and soiled cloths.

“Hmm, there’s a little vessel nicked in here,” she said thoughtfully as she knelt, a few minutes later, examining the wound, easing apart the edges so she could find the source of the bleed. “I’ll stitch that tight first.” She glanced up. “Would you like a drink before I begin to work? It would be helpful to me if you didn’t flinch.”

“I think I’ve had quite enough of that alleged hydromeli for one night. Well more than one night actually.”

“Merciful Hera no. Not that filth.” Samsi stood upright and Kassandra felt herself gazing slack jawed at the intoxicating sway of her breasts, unable to look away. Samsi smiled as she followed her gaze. “Later, my warrior, I promise.” She stroked her cheek. “First let me work and then all this shall be yours.”

Kassandra felt the warm seep of arousal, smelt the scent of her desire adding to the cocktail that assailed her. She suspected Samsi might be able to smell it too. There was something puzzling and fascinating about this woman, something she couldn’t put her finger on. She was returning now with a small cup containing a clear amber tinted liquid. Kassandra sniffed experimentally, smelt sharp citrus and warm herbs. The first sip warmed her entire chest, the second eased all the tension from her muscles, the third quietened the agitated muttering at the back of her mind.

“What _is_ that?” She handed back the empty cup with an arm that felt like it was melting.

“A delicacy from my homeland,” Samsi smiled, making her way to the table and heating a needle in the candle flame.

“And your homeland is?” Kassandra blinked slowly, trying not to stare at the smooth curves of Samsi’s spine, the lush flesh of her ass, the long, firm muscles of her legs. She failed so completely that Samsi laughed when she turned and saw her hungry expression.

“Control yourself a little longer, sweet one.” She resumed her position kneeling at Kassandra’s feet.

“Why won’t you answer the question?” Kassandra frowned. Samsi put a hand against her knee, urging her to part her legs a little so she could work more easily.

“There are many routes to my homeland and none of them are mapped, but all are open to those who can see.”

Kassandra scoffed and shook her head. She was about to press the point when she felt the first stitch, deep inside the muscle of her thigh. She’d had many wounds stitched over the years, by her own hands and others, she was totally familiar with the exquisitely sharp pain of the needle breaking through skin, easing through flesh, but this…? She could feel every motion, but none of the pain. There was pressure, an irritating tickling sensation, but nothing more. She sat upright and looked down, watching calmly as Samsi worked the needle and odd coloured thread through her flesh.

“Are you all right?” Samsi glanced up. “Would you like me to change the needle? This is perhaps a little blunt now?”

Kassandra shook her head wonderingly, watched as the thread was tied off, clipped short with the tiniest pair of shears she had ever seen.

“This will sit here, quite happily.” Samsi got to her feet. “Eventually it will melt away, your body will absorb it, by that time all will be healed.”

Kassandra looked down at her thigh. With the vessel tied off the bleeding had stopped. If she flexed her muscle the cut gaped wide like a screaming scarlet mouth, but she felt nothing. When Samsi returned she had a small pot containing a gelatinous green paste and a fresh needle.

“What’s that?” Kassandra watched as Samsi rolled a long wormlike strand of the paste onto the end of a tiny wooden spatula.

“You warriors,” she laughed, easing apart the edges of the wound and smearing the paste into the deepest part, along the full length of the incision. “So many questions. It will help it knit together and prevent any infection deep within the wound.”

“I don’t develop infections,” Kassandra said placidly. Then she recalled a genuinely unpleasant encounter with a bear on a pig farm. “Usually,” she amended.

“Good for you,” Samsi said dryly. “You scar though, eh?” She reached out and ran her fingers slowly along the three proud bands of scar tissue that almost circled Kassandra’s right bicep.

“Everyone scars.” She shrugged.

“Well this one won’t.” Samsi bent to begin stitching. She had moved the lamp closer, but it was still less than ideal for delicate work, and she bowed her head low, frowning in concentration. A strand of hair that had worked loose, fell down and tickled against Kassandra’s thigh. She twitched involuntarily and felt her cunt clench, hard. “Patience, handsome warrior,” Samsi laughed and placed a calming hand on her leg. “I am as eager as you, but first there is work to be done.”

The sight of Samsi’s head bent so low over her lap that she must be able to sense the intensity of Kassandra’s arousal was too much. Kassandra leaned back on her hands, concentrating hard on the ceiling. A small, green lizard, no doubt disturbed by all the activity, darted out from a crack in one corner and made for the window. In search of supper perhaps?

“Done!” The bright exclamation startled Kassandra back to the moment. She looked down as Samsi patted her leg and pressed a quick, playful kiss to her knee. “I would normally put a bandage over that, but I imagine that it would get displaced later in the evening. Hopefully.” She got to her feet and gathered up her tools.

At some point in proceedings, without Kassandra noticing, she had emptied the smokey water out of the wash bowl. Through the window, presumably, Kassandra thought, standing up and testing the leg. Samsi was washing her hands now, shamelessly naked before the open shutters. Kassandra, hooked like a fish, made her way over to her, stopping a half pace behind her and breathing in her scent, the rose and marjoram and beneath that, more enticing than either, the musky scent of Samsi’s arousal.

“You’ll see her again.” Samsi dried her hands and turned quickly to face Kassandra, smiling at her perplexed expression, at her head cocked like a quizzical pup. “The woman who broke your heart? Who gave you _this_ scar.” She reached out and placed the flat of her hand between Kassandra’s breasts.

“What?” She recoiled, frowning, suddenly aware of the frantic drumming of her heart.

“Some scars are both invisible _and_ blindingly apparent, Kassandra,” Samsi’s voice was whisper soft.

“What _are_ you, Samsi?” Kassandra took a step back, shaking her head in confusion.

“Not a sorceress Kassandra, if that’s what you’re worried about. The scars I’m speaking of are only obvious to those who know how to look. I’m just a hetaera, my sweet.”

“ _Who_ are you?” Kassandra whispered, as Samsi approached close. Close enough for her to feel the soft pressure of her breasts against her chest.

“Tonight, beautiful warrior.” She deftly unknotted Kassandra’s perizoma and sent it sliding to her ankles with a flick of her wrist. “I can be whoever you want me to be.”

Samsi was not like Kyra. Not at all. She was all soft honey to Kyra’s firm bronze. Her eyes, clear as gemstones, had none of Kyra’s dark intensity. Samsi’s voice was light and soft as she wound her arms around Kassandra’s shoulders and whispered her name, begged for her kiss, pleaded for the touch of her hands.

Kassandra could remember something of every woman she had ever made love with. The curve of a smile here. The sound of laughter there. As she pushed Samsi down onto the bed and mounted her, sliding her uninjured thigh between her legs, groaning at the wet heat that painted her skin, Kassandra committed this new lover to memory. The perfume in her hair. The eager probing of her tongue. The faint salt of sweat between her breasts. The slow puckering to erection of her nipples. The sour sharp taste of her cunt, both familiar and foreign, like every silky cunt that Kassandra had lost herself in over the years.

None of it was like Kyra. The musk of Samsi’s sex was sharper, her breasts softer and heavier, the scent of her sweat lighter. Kassandra could mistake none of it for Kyra. And yet… And yet, when she came, drenching Samsi’s thigh with her release, feeling the hot tight pulsing of Samsi’s orgasm around her fingers, it was Kyra’s name that Kassandra sobbed into the stifling night.

The sun was rising by the time they both lay back, sated and sweaty in a tangle of limbs and sheets, and it was high in the sky when they wandered downstairs in search of something that might generously be classed as breakfast.

“So, you are to remain forever a mystery to me, Samsi?” Kassandra smiled, chewing at a chicken thigh.

“I could say the same for you Kassandra, could I not?” Samsi was dipping chunks of flatbread into a bowl of watered wine and nibbling on olives. “I know only that your name is Kassandra and you were once a Spartan, and that you are an excellent lover. And believe me, that is quite a compliment given my past experiences.”

“Well, suffice to say that your dedicated study of the generations of hetaerae before you has definitely borne fruit.” Kassandra wiped her fingers on her handkerchief before reaching for Samsi’s hand and pressing the knuckles to her lips. “Before I leave, will you answer me one question at least?”

“Possibly,” Samsi smiled.

“What is a woman like you doing alone in a place like this? And don’t say you could ask me the same question.” Kassandra rolled her eyes.

“Well, I could. But I’ll take pity on you, inquisitive warrior. I was looking for the daughter of a friend.”

“And did you find her?” Kassandra got to her feet and picked up her weapons from the bench beside her.

“I did.” Samsi nodded, smiling contentedly. “She will be returning with me in a little while.”

“To?” Kassandra teased.

“Our homeland,” Samsi laughed, wagging a finger. “May I come and wave you goodbye?”

“I’d be sad if you didn’t.” Kassandra took her hand and led her to the stables.

“He’s a fine fellow.” Samsi observed, stroking Phobos’ neck affectionately. “And loyal to a fault I am sure.”

“He talks back, but apart from that, he’s a good mount.” Kassandra laughed, taking his reins and leading him outside. Untying a pouch from her belt she held it loosely in her hand for a moment. “Thank you, Samsi.”

“For what, my friend?” She tilted her head.

“For last night.” Kassandra hooked the loose reins over the saddle and took Samsi’s hand. “For patching me up, for being kind.”

“I consider myself fully repaid.” She squeezed Kassandra’s fingers tightly.

“Not quite fully.” Kassandra pressed the pouch into her hands.

“No!” Samsi shook her head, pushing it back. “Last night was not business.”

“Then what was it?” Kassandra asked, frowning a little. “Charity?”

“Blessed Aphrodite, no!” Samsi laughed, shaking her head. “Even for someone like me who finds herself surrounded by impressive warrior women every day,” she saw Kassandra’s eyebrows creeping up, “you are very tempting. Last night was unadulterated pleasure.”

Kassandra considered for a few moments, sliding the coin pouch from hand to hand. “Take it, please? For the poor of your “homeland”, if not for yourself.”

“There are no poor in my homeland.” Samsi said placidly. “But I have seen many in yours. _You_ redistribute that wealth, Kassandra. Do it in the name of Hippolyta, both gracious and mighty.”

“The queen of the Amazons?” Kassandra smiled. “Seriously?”

“Mmm, I think she would approve.” Samsi reached out and stroked Kassandra’s cheek before leaning in and kissing her, soft and lingering. Breaking the kiss at last she sighed. “You should go now, my handsome lover. You are far too tempting and I have a schedule to keep.”

Kassandra swung up into the saddle and gave Samsi a final wave goodbye before heading towards the gate. She was just about to spur Phobos on, to feel the wind in her hair as she made for the coast, when she heard Samsi call her name. She looked back over her shoulder.

“Your Kyra?” Samsi called. “It hurts now. I know that. It will hurt for a good while yet. I know that. But she will come to her senses, Kassandra. I know that too, beyond a doubt.”

“So now you’re an oracle?” Kassandra gave a good natured laugh.

“No, sweet warrior. Just a hetaera.” Samsi turned and walked back into the tavern and out of Kassandra’s sight.

**Author's Note:**

> spitshineboi was kind enough to allow me an evening out with one of her OCs. If you'd like to find out more about Samsi check out spitshineboi's story My Breath Was Gone, My Voice Was Lost.


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